


I Can't Just Walk Away

by itsamagicalplace



Series: Melinda May and her ducklings [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamagicalplace/pseuds/itsamagicalplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jemma awakens from a nightmare, the last thing she expects to hear is somebody else crying...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Just Walk Away

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the lines _“Her nightmares are never part of the legend of the Cavalry. No one spreads stories at the Academy about how hard it is to sleep"_ from the wonderful fic "Shared" by Oparu.

Jemma wanders slowly down the corridor, listening intently into the silence that now envelops the darkness. Stopping outside of Skye’s door however, she realises it wasn’t her she had heard crying. Skye’s door is open slightly, and Jemma can see the hacker sprawled out across her pillows through the crack in the doorway. She can’t help but envy how Skye can still sleep after everything she went through with Ward, but then, she’s always seemed more relaxed naturally; Jemma herself often wakes in the middle of the night, breathless and shaking, dreams of enclosed spaces filling slowly with freezing salt water haunting her.

Just like tonight.

It doesn’t take her long to register that the only other female with a room on this corridor, is May, and with a twinge of some unknown emotion (possibly shock, she isn’t sure), she realises it must have been her.

Jemma pauses, unsure what to do.

There’s nobody else around, and the sobbing has stopped. She shouldn’t be surprised really; if May had heard even the slightest movement outside her room, which she probably did, Jemma knows full well she would have halted her tears.

In all the time they’ve worked together, she isn’t sure she’s ever seen May vulnerable.

Even after the past year, she can’t deny May still scares her, just a tiny bit. After all, she’s a living legend within their organisation. Throughout her time at the academy Jemma was surrounded by stories of the agent who took down ten, twenty, fifty people, all with her bare hands; the details changed every time, but all agents knew about the events of that day in some way or other.

The day that created The Cavalry.

It’s a title May hates. Jemma knows that, and over the last few months she’s tried desperately to forget about it, to not be afraid of her, and just talk to her like any other agent. But even through everything they’ve been through as a team, there’s still that small part of her that’s in fearful awe every time she sees the woman.

But now she’s here, and she’s heard her sobbing in the middle of the night, Jemma wonders why she never considered the impact Bahrain would have had on the agents who were there; she never even thought about the idea of May being kept awake by nightmares that could make her own pale in comparison. 

Without even realising it, she’s made her way to May’s room, and now has no choice really but to knock.

Her knuckles rap softly of the cool wood of her door, and she holds her breath, her pulse quickening. The reaction is ridiculous, and she’s internally chastising herself; she’s only making sure she’s okay.

It takes a few seconds, and she’s not sure if May is ignoring her or not, but eventually she gets a response.

“I’m okay, Jemma.”

Jemma once more begins her internal debate as to whether May is slightly psychic – how did she know it wasn’t Skye outside her room instead – but is interrupted when May pulls open the door to face her.

“I’m okay” she repeats, forcing a slight smile onto her face. It isn’t fooling Jemma. She’s learnt over the past year to read through the mask, to not take “I’m okay” at face value. Not with May. She might accept her assurances during the day, but if she’s crying in the middle of the night then Jemma isn’t leaving her here without being certain.

Coulson is away on another secret assignment, and she’s pretty sure he would be with May right now if he hadn’t left. But he did, so Jemma is going to make it her own personal mission to ensure May is okay.

Perhaps it’s out of place to say, and maybe the older woman doesn’t want her comfort and just needs to be alone. But something inside Jemma needs to make sure she is alright. On the outside, May seems like the strongest person she’s ever met, and she does everything to protect their little team. Sometimes Jemma thinks she forgets that she deserves someone to protect her too.

“You don’t always have to keep it together” she says quietly. It’s meant as a comfort, but it’s also an offer; she’ll help in any way she can if May needs her.

May turns away from her, heading back into her room, but leaves the door open in invitation, if she wants it.

Jemma can just make out May’s response, whispered into the darkness;

“Yes I do.”

Jemma swallows, and follows her into the room, taking a seat on the soft navy sheets next to where May is now sat watching her.

She realises she’s never been in here before, nor did she ever even see May’s bunk on the BUS. She’s turned on a small bedside lamp, and Jemma can see it’s simply furnished. Unlike Skye, who must be one of the most untidy people she’s ever met, May’s room is almost spotless. The only thing out of place is a book, resting open on the table by her bed. Jemma used to love reading; she hasn’t found much time for it recently.

“You can’t sleep?” May asks.

Jemma’s not sure how this, whatever this is, became about her; May’s probably deflecting the conversation onto her so she doesn’t have to focus on herself, on her own pain. Jemma can’t make her talk if she doesn’t want to though, so she just nods.

“I dream of drowning” she whispers. She’s not spoken to anyone about this. Maybe May is the best person; she obviously knows what it’s like to spend her nights swimming in unconscious terror. “I close my eyes, and imagine the water filling the medical pod. I can see Fitz, and I know we’re going to die.” Her breath hitches, and she closes her eyes.

“You’re safe now” May murmurs to her, hesitating slightly, before reaching a hand out and resting it over one of her own.

“I am, but Fitz isn’t…he isn’t the same, and that’s my fault.”

She opens her eyes again, and stares into space, but she can still see May shaking her head in her peripheral vision.

“It is not your fault.”

The firmness in her voice startles Jemma, and she turns to see May watching her with that fierce protective expression she’s caught her wearing more and more lately.

“You saved his life by getting him to the surface.”

“No, he saved mine.”

May is watching her still, and Jemma has to look away again before she cries. She’s suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to call her mother, just to hear her voice, to let her know she is okay; she misses her parents so much.

May seems to sense her change in mood, because she does something that startles Jemma more than actually being invited into her room at 4am: she shuffles over, and envelops her in a gentle hug.

It’s comforting, more than she’d realised it would be, and within seconds she finds herself hugging her back. May holds her close, and the two just sit together, breathing quietly. The physical comfort reminds her how much she’s been isolating herself recently, and she makes a mental decision to stop herself doing that. Fitz needs her, as does Skye.

Jemma can feel May inhale, and somehow before she even speaks, she knows she’s going to tell her about her own nightmares.

Maybe she has some of that psychic-ness too.

But regardless, she feels a strange sense of pride that Melinda May trusts her with what she’s going to say.

“When I dream, it’s mostly of blood…”

For the next half hour, they share more of their nightmares. May won’t tell her them all, refuses to elaborate on a lot of what she says, but what she does reveal to the scientist makes Jemma regret ever calling her the Cavalry. She knows she’ll never do it again. And she’ll make sure nobody else does either.

As they talk, the artificial light of the bunker begins to brighten slowly, signalling the arrival of dawn, and the burden feels just a little bit less to deal with.

For both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song 'All I Need' by Karen David.


End file.
